


Sharing and Caring

by midnightecho



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 17:59:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/788534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightecho/pseuds/midnightecho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After 8x21, Dean patches Cas up back at the Bunker and gets the full story of what happened while he was gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharing and Caring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [littlehollyleaf](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=littlehollyleaf).



> who was in need of some caring Destiel after the end of the most recent episode. Sorry it took almost a week :L <3

The journey home had been pretty quiet. Cas looked terrible, with his face bloody and coat dirty, hair mussed in all manner of directions. The brothers had ran to help him up when they found him – Dean hadn’t even been sure of it was the angel to start with, but as soon as he’d spoken, the hunter was by his side. As they carried Cas, his arms slung over their shoulders, Sam had asked what had happened, but the angel had only said that he’d “explain later”. And so they had assisted him onto the back seat of the Impala and most of the drive back to the Batcave had been spent in anxious silence.

Dean pulled up outside, gently so as not to damage Cas any further, and took charge.

“Alright, Sammy, you take the car round the back and get her settled for the night – you know how she likes it – and after that I want you to come straight inside and get some rest, you hear me?”  
Sam began to protest, but Dean gave him a look that told him not to push him.

“It’s been a long night; let’s not make it longer by arguing. Straight to bed, and I’ll get Cas inside and cleaned up.”

Sam looked a little reluctant, but nodded. Dean nodded back and proceeded to push out of the driver’s seat, handing the keys to Sam when he came round the bonnet and wrenching open the back door to tend to his angel.

Without a word, Cas looped his arm over Dean’s shoulders once more and they shuffled towards the sunken entryway. Only when they reached the door did Cas seem to notice that they were not at some highway motel.

“What is this place?” he asked, gazing up at the arched brickwork (which he was surprised to see didn’t have any form of demonic warding on it).

“This,” Dean answered, turning the key with a clunk, “is our new home.”

The door swung wide, revealing the wide entryway into the atrium (as the brothers liked to call it). Cas’ eyes passed over row upon row of leather-bound volumes lining the walls, huge cabinets of ancient artefacts filling the corners. A long wooden table ran through the centre of the room, scattered with papers on some case or another, a half-eaten bowl of soup abandoned amongst them.

“The knowledge accumulated in this room alone is incredible,” the angel commented, awed despite his current condition.

“Yeah, it’s great,” Dean agreed, in a slightly less captivated tone. “The first thing Sammy did when we found this place was read every book on these shelves. I still don’t know how he managed it,” he mused, glancing up at the books. “But you can stare all you want when you’re better; right now, we need to patch you up.”

He steered Cas towards a side room which held only a few padded chairs and a cabinet that held all manner of healing supplies and a small sink. Dean helped Cas into one of the chairs and set about collecting what he needed. He soon settled beside his friend and began to gently inspect his inflictions. Cas’ side was the worst, and so he winced a little when Dean crouched beside him and carefully drew away the blood-sodden material covering the wound. The hunter frowned at the torn flesh as he dabbed at it with a clean wet cloth – the blood had stopped flowing, but the cloth still came away a dark red.

“Crowley,” Cas said after a moment, answering the question Dean was about to pose. “He’d melted down an angel blade and had it made into bullets.”

“Inventive,” Dean said bitterly. “How’d he get his hands on you in the first place? I thought you were ‘in the wind’?”

“I was,” the angel replied, flinching when the cloth caught a sensitive tear. “Naomi found me first.”

“Naomi? That son of a bitch.” Dean’s fury was evident, and stronger than Cas was expecting considering he hadn’t known them met. “How’d she find you?”

Cas sighed wearily. “I’d been visiting random branches of a nationwide restaurant chain store, switching before she had time to work out which I was in, for what felt like weeks. Perhaps it was. I felt desperate at times, like I would always be running like this, never knowing how close she was, how long I could last… but it threw her well enough. Eventually, I suppose she couldn’t take not being in control. She murdered everyone in one of the stores, and when I arrived, she was waiting. She made my brothers beat me up. I felt helpless, unable to reach out to them, let them see reason. They knew their orders, just like I knew mine; they would never go against someone like Naomi for all the martyrdom it may someday buy them.

“Crowley wasn’t far behind. He shot one of my brothers and me, and Naomi fled before he got her too. Ion was left behind, and Crowley soon had his allegiance for sparing his life – and being king of Hell, I suppose.” Dean’s lips twitched at that remark as he laid a dressing on the wound and moved his focus to the wide gash across Cas’ diaphragm. “Crowley figured I still had the angel tablet,” the angel continued, “and that’s where he pulled it out of me. I don’t know where he took it, Dean; all I know is that I failed.”

The hunter looked up at that. “You didn’t fail, Cas. You kept it away from them a long time – and from me,” he added, half to himself.

Cas met his eyes. Dean looked away again, pretending to focus on his cut. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around, Dean. I would have done anything to return as soon as I left, to explain the situation fully, but it was my duty to take care of the tablet. I’ve disobeyed enough orders to last me a lifetime; I couldn’t do the same here.”

Dean finished cleaning the angel’s chest and sat back up beside him. “I know, I know. You did what was right. We got the general gist of the situation, anyway.”

Cas gave a weak smile. Dean couldn’t help but be amazed at the fact that his friend still looked angelic with blood splattered across his face – which the hunter proceeded to clean when the door closed somewhere outside the room and brought him to his senses. Sam called a weary goodnight before heading off to his room, and by the time Dean could hear his soft snores, Cas looked halfway presentable – apart from the drooping eyelids and slumped position. Dean smiled to himself and gently scooped his angel up into his arms and carried him across the atrium and to his own room. As he walked, Cas’ head fell against his arm and nestled there, his body growing heavier as he lost consciousness from exhaustion.

The bedroom door creaked a little when Dean nudged it open with his toe, but setting Cas on the soft memory foam didn’t make a sound. He curled up subconsciously, facing the plain, undecorated side of the room, and Dean pulled the covers over him, tucking them up around his collar and under his feet. He surrendered to the longing to push the angel’s matted hair from his eyes, and Dean was saddened to note that even in sleep, Cas did not seem at peace; his brows were heavily creased, eyelashes fluttered restlessly, more so as he fell deeper into sleep. Dean pulled up the hard wooden chair and sat watch over his angel’s troubled dreams, until his own took him under as well.


End file.
